


a scene from the Art of Stealing chap.1 Angelina this is for you cus t*mblrs being a hoe lol

by strawberpcy



Category: Red Velvet (K-pop Band), 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-22 06:57:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17055272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strawberpcy/pseuds/strawberpcy





	a scene from the Art of Stealing chap.1 Angelina this is for you cus t*mblrs being a hoe lol

You pull your dress down for the hundredth time. You stand alone by the bar, no one wanting to approach the new girl. Hoseok is nowhere to be seen, along with his promise of a good time. Music is blasting in your ears, the air heavy with a sickly, sweet smell. The scent would mean nothing to anyone, but your trained nose could recognize the smell as opium. 

The party is a wild one; illegal liquor flows, visitors come from everywhere, there's a DJ, and the warehouse takes on a carnival atmosphere. People are reckless and drunk, snorting coke, smoking weed or fucking someone. You sigh. Good time indeed, thanks a lot Hoseok.  
You take another sip of your drink, your eyes landing on a lone figure on the other side of the dim bar. A lit cigarette is his only companion. You’ve been watching the red-headed man for a while now, and so far, he seemed oblivious to your gaze. He hasn’t uttered a single word to you since the subway incident. The times you cross paths with each other, he doesn’t acknowledge your presence. 

The mysterious man has the swagger of someone you don't even want to lock eyes with, let alone cross. His arms are more ink than skin, and he wears a perpetual expression of boredom, like he’d rather be anywhere else. Hm. A mafia boss who’s sick of his own party. Why is even here then?  
A girl makes her way to him, hips swaying as she sits on the bar stool next to him. The fourth one to approach him so far. Her eyes are flirtatious as she rests her hand on his thigh. You couldn’t hear what they were saying, but you can make a pretty good guess when she suddenly stands up, eyes full of anger when he rejects her. She stomps off in indignation, but he doesn’t seem the least bothered by it, an expression of sullen distaste decorating his face.

“Thinking of trying your luck, doll?”

You turn to the source of the sultry voice. Your eyes meet those of a stunning raven-haired woman. She was beautiful – very beautiful. Enough to make you insecure just by standing next to her. You shake your head in response. “I’m not in the least bit interested.”

“Good, I wouldn’t try it if I were you. He’s probably broken a thousand hearts in his lifetime. I’m actually surprised he opted to keep you around instead of killing you.” She places a slender hand on your elbow. “Although, looking at you up close. I can understand why.” 

Her smile is alluring. She introduces herself as Kim Jennie, cat-like eyes looking at you like a lion watching their prey. The air surrounding her was sensual, almost erotic. You were so enamored by her that you don’t notice when she leads you to the dance floor. “What do you mean?” 

“You look like her.”

“Who?” 

“His dead girlfriend.” She doesn’t elaborate further, but you don’t notice. Too distracted as she dances next to you, her eyes closed as her arm snakes around your waist. You watch her, captivated by the slow way she sways her slender form. She dances as if it is the only way her body truly knew how to speak. Each move graceful and elegant. It was impossible not to think of a cat. 

Face like the moon, pale and mysterious. In the dark, you could get the gist of her features, but none of it stuck in your mind beyond an impression of astonishing beauty. Her long hair wafts around her like black smoke, its tendrils curling and moving of their own volition. She was so close to you, you could smell the intoxicating scent of her expensive perfume. You’re confused at the speeding beat of your heart.

“I’m straight.” The words breathy and barely audible, spoken in a whisper. 

You don’t think she heard you, but even if she did, she doesn’t show it, opting instead shoot you a dazzling smile, red lips turning up by the corners in a feline smile. She reminds you of a Cheshire cat, charming and enigmatic. She leans in, breath fanning out on your exposed collar bone as she whispers in you ear. “Loosen up, doll. You’re so tense.”

Her voice had a hypnotic quality. You were bewitched, following her command like a puppet being controlled by a puppeteer. Captivated and completely lost in her eyes, you begin to follow her lead. Two bodies unified, swaying to the rhythm of the music. Your heart beats in unison to the music, the thumps reverberating through your whole body as you begin to lose yourself in the hypnotic melody. 

Suddenly, you were painfully aware of how close she was leaning towards you. Long lashes framing dark eyes as they tempt you. Seduce you. Long, slender fingers play with the hem of your dress, each time her fingertips brush your thigh making your heart bloom into swirling fire. You’re straight? The acceleration of your heart-rate has nothing to do with the confusion. Maybe it’s the alcohol finally kicking in.

A lazy smile decorates her crimson lips as she bites them, her warm breath fanning your top lip. She leans in closer, her lips just millimeters away. Your heart thunders with confused desire at her enchanting touch. Your eyes flicker with desire and your breath quickens when your lips meet – just barely touching. It was enough to make you dizzy.   
The moment lasts only a second, and she leans away as quickly as she moved in. She watches you with pure, unadulterated amusement as your lips chase after hers, already missing her soft cherry lips. The gap closes again, but this time you were the cause. 

With the kiss came electric tingles, the desire to play. One touch and the intoxication is instant. Open mouths clashing together and tongues fighting for dominance. The temperature rises by the second and it’s hard to breath. She giggles against your lips, her fingers tangling themselves in your hair. 

You pull away to catch a breath but lean in again quickly, her taste sending you into a heady trance. The rest of the world is hazy and nothing else seems to register in your confused mind. The only thing that matters is the music. The dancing. Her warm body pressed against yours.

You fall into her, languid bodies swaying in a natural rhythm. Every kiss has a raw intensity - breathing fast, heart rates faster. Every patch of skin she touches tingles with electricity and your mind is pushed into a frenzy of sparks.

“I would love to stay and play with you, doll, but I have somewhere I need to be.” She leans back and shoots you a sultry wink. And just like that, she leaves as fast as she came, mixing with the crowd before disappearing, leaving you dazed and confused by the bewitching woman that is Kim Jennie. A sphinxlike enigma. What the hell just happened? Even after she left, her spell still stays with you. You still feel the imprint of her cherry lips on yours, still drunk with the high it gave you. Her fragrance hangs around the air as if she was still there with you, intoxicating you. You close your eyes and feel the bass shaking the ground beneath you, sending vibrations up your body to your very core. 

The bass thumps in time with your heart beat as though they were one, filling you from head to toe with music. It pulsates in your veins, and you let your body dance freely to the music like you were its puppet. The crowd is united as one, throbbing heart; all spellbound by the same hypnotic melody. You sway your hips and get lost in the moment.

Over the roar of music, chatter could be heard. You can’t make out any words, but laughter rings in your ears and doesn’t stop. People around you are talking, laughing, having the time of their lives. The song that is playing gets louder, pulling you in and refusing to let go. It urges you to keep dancing. You’re only alive in the present, the rest of the world becoming an unimportant blur that is banished into the far recesses of your mind. You like this song.

When you finally open your eyes, you’re surprised to see Red’s gaze on you. His eyes; a well of jet-black ink, held a gaze more fearsome than a tiger. They were hooded, heavy-lidded as his full attention was trained on you. His orbs dark and full of hidden emotion as you held his piercing gaze, chills sending waves down your spine. A thin paper cigarette hangs from his bottom lip, a small trail of smoke escaping from the corner of his mouth dances its way to the ceiling above him. The tense atmosphere is sensual and charged with electric energy. Almost lewd. 

He looks away first. 

You keep watching as he gets up and moves towards a back door, hidden and away from the center of the party, tucked away in a corner where no one was dancing.   
It seems to awaken you from your spellbound daze. The music is still blaring in your ears, mesmeric melodies inviting you to keep dancing. It beckons, but the hypnotic spell is already wearing off. You look around the room and see the gyrating bodies of people dancing to the music, everyone in the very same trance that held you captive just moments ago.

You realize it’s the perfect distraction. While everyone was here partying and drinking, you could go snoop around for the painting. The night is still young, and you could sneak back inside before anyone could notice that you were gone. Not that anyone was paying attention to you anyway. Besides, even if you didn’t make it back, you could always make up some lame excuse like having too much to drink. You look at your watch. No pressure.

-

You look at your watch. It’s been nearly an hour since you started your search. Despite looking everywhere and turning everything upside down, nothing turned up regarding the location of the painting. No hints, no clues, not even a whiff. You should have a dog or something, to sniff out the painting. Maybe even a multibillion-dollar painting detector. Someone should think of inventing that.

You close the door carefully as you leave and make your way towards the next one. 

The door sounds a silent protest as you enter, the room grey and barren except for a lone figure in the middle of the otherwise empty room. The room is spacious and looks like it was once used for storage. The floor and walls are grey and made of concrete, its only source of light from a single bright lightbulb that hung overhead. The solus figure’s red hair catches the light and bathes his stony features in an almost ethereal glow. The atmosphere is somber, almost gloomy.

The brooding man doesn’t seem to notice your intrusion, all his attention focused on the object that lay in front of him. His concentration is trained on the L-shaped item, tracing the barrel with his eyes and landing on its muzzle. His posture exudes a lazy and bored vibe to it, slouching with his feet and thighs spread apart. You recognize the make of the gun, a revolver. Russian. It rests forlorn on a steel table. A single metal chair is placed beside it, already occupied. What is he planning on doing with it?

You observe him in silence, still hidden behind shadows. You didn’t see him as the beautiful man that others saw, with dark, tousled hair and a face that could have belonged to Adonis himself. Every time you look at him, you detect only anger or boredom, the dangerous moods that almost always led to pain. He is an enigma, mysterious and unpredictable with a disturbing capacity for violence. A man to be feared. 

You think not to meddle and decide to leave. Making a conscious effort to stay quiet, you make a move towards the door. But despite your best efforts, you manage to trip on a hidden cable. You jerk your hand in search of something to help your balance, knocking down an object to the concrete floor. An echo bounces around the room. 

Fucking idiot.

There’s a brief moment of silence. The only sound you can hear is the pounding of your chest. Silence means good right? Maybe he was so zoned out, he didn’t hear you. Yeah, that is probably the case-

“Get out.” His voice is low, barely audible.

You feel his eyes burning your back and you turn to meet his cold gaze, immediately intense and gripping. Your eyes are wide like a deer caught in headlights. Damn cable. How conveniently placed. You feel like a child caught red-handed stealing from the cookie jar and for a few moments, you stand there, both of you not speaking. Your body tingles with nervous energy.

“I said get out.” 

You aren’t cold, but you shiver. He had that kind of voice, you know. That rich, deep voice that you could listen to for hours on nights you can’t sleep. Melodic. Hearing him say that eliminates all your previous desire to do so, and you’re drawn to him. Against better judgement, you slowly make your way towards him. Maybe it’s the alcohol.   
Bravery always bordered on foolishness. Perhaps today is the day you die.

He doesn’t seem too impressed by your disobedience, arms folded against his chest in an unwelcoming manner. The corners of his lips are turned down in annoyance, cold eyes watching your progress as you take strides towards him. A hint of a sardonic grin plays on your lips.

“I don’t want to.” Despite your fear, you raise your chin in bratty defiance and feel childish pleasure in irking him so. You feel the urge to see just how far you can push his buttons, the curiosity igniting a flame and making excitement simmer in your stomach. 

In one quick motion, you push yourself to a sitting position on the table in elegant fashion, perching your feet unto his chair on the space between his thighs. You vaguely feel the cold metal of the revolver poking the outside of your thigh. 

He raises his eyebrows at your bold move and you hold his gaze. Heart hammering and sweaty hands resting on the edge of the table, you lean forwards slightly. Not failing to notice the barely perceptible way his lips lift by the corners in amusement. 

“So you seem to have a difficulty obeying your superiors.” He observes, a mocking lilt to his irritated tone. He looks up at you through the red strands of hair that fell in front of his eyes. A single eyebrow raised, willing you to look away. 

You accept the silent challenge. Looking down at him through half-closed eyes, you spot the beginning of a tattoo peeking up from his neck, the rest of the art covered by his shirt. His eyebrows knot together. He was even prettier up close, bone structure fine and perfectly symmetrical. 

“So you seem to have a difficulty being polite.” You bravely bite back. You’re digging your own grave. Do you have a death wish or something? You consider the possibility. His lips twitch into a lopsided smile. It’s enough to take your breath away. The room fills with tense energy.

Swallowing your nerves and taking a leap of faith, you place your hand on his chest. Strong muscles underneath fabric. You notice the way his eyebrows shoot up just a little. You continue sliding your hand under his leather jacket until you feel the card deck-shaped package you were looking for, its plastic packaging producing a crinkling sound as your fingers come in contact with it. 

He watches you as you take a cigarette and pull it out of his jacket. What are you doing? Grabbing a smoke from a mafia boss without permission is never a good idea. You place the deadly stick in between your lips. That is, unless you want to die where you stand. Or sit. You need something to light it. Perhaps he had a lighter. You nod your head at him. 

“Tch.” His tone is annoyed, irritated at your bold display. Nevertheless, he produces a golden lighter from his back pocket, understanding the unspoken question. You hold each other’s gaze as he reaches up lights the cigar for you. A hint of amusement dancing in his cold eyes. Perhaps you’re not going to die today. “It seems our little kitty is feeling brave tonight. Isn’t she scared of the big, bad wolf?”

You are, but you don’t show it. “No sir,” you purr in faux confidence, bold playfulness coating your words like freshly fallen snow, “she isn’t.” The room is filled with almost sexual tension. You feel your body buzzing with excited energy, bordering fright. Does he feel it too? You can’t tell.

He chuckles, his voice a deep baritone. It almost makes you shiver. “If you could even begin to comprehend where I’ve come from, you would be terrified of me.”   
He takes the revolver from beside you, breath hitching when his fingers come in contact with your thigh ever so slightly. He lifts the gun up face-level, turning it about in the light, casting shadows on his face. What’s on his mind? It’s impossible to know. You knew you were stepping into unknown territory when you chose to intrude, and you pray you weren’t overstepping your boundaries. 

“I think I know enough. I know that you’re dangerous.”

He was a dangerous man, point proven through the many stories and rumors that flew about amongst his underdogs. Tales and anecdotes of the ruthless mafia leader with a heart as cold as ice and temper most feared, a dictator that ruthlessly rules over his empire. He could kill you right here, right now if he wished. And you would just be another soul he’s killed among countless others in cold blood. The mere thought sends chills to your spine, adding fear to the fuel thundering your heart. Namjoon always told you that you had a taste for danger.

“Should I test my little kitten then?” his voice is low, almost a growl. Similar to the growl of a wolf, muscles tight and poised to pounce on their unassuming prey. Just how is he planning to test you? You’re almost too scared to find out. Almost.

“If Mr. Wolf wishes to do so.” Tense, you stare at each other. His face is unreadable. Your heart gallops in your chest and you hold your breath. His hand reaches forward, caressing your lips just barely. It lingers there for a while, igniting heat and making your body buzz with sensual energy. Almost erotic. He holds your gaze as he takes the lit cigarette from your lips, the movement smooth and graceful. 

You see your lipstick smeared on the filter end of the stick before disappearing as it is enveloped by his lips. It’s a hot sight. You watch with suspended breath as he lifts the revolver and points it towards you, the muzzle staring into your eyes. A small trail of smoke escapes from the corner of his mouth and floats its way to the ceiling. His eyes are dark and unpredictable.

He cocks it.

You feel like every fiber of your being is vibrating with fear and suspense. Adrenaline is coursing through your veins, as you try to hide the trembling of your hands and slow the excited beating of your heart. Looking into each other’s eyes, time seems to slow down. It’s hard to breathe. 

He’s out of his damn mind.

He holds the revolver loosely. Time stops completely as his finger slowly presses the trigger. A bullet whizzes by millimeters away from your face and onto the wall behind you with a bang that echoes throughout the room. Jesus fucking Christ. His eyebrow raises in impressed amusement at your controlled reaction; nothing, not a flinch, not a single damn thing. Holy shit. 

You’re out of your damn mind.

His smile widens as you let out a little giggle, pearly whites bright enough to make the whole world stop and stare. It’s the first time you’ve ever seen him smile. You feel giddy with adrenaline rush. You were scared shitless, but you don’t regret it, more alive than you had ever thought possible.

“Do you want to play a game?” he asks. He wears the same stoic expression, stony and calm. But there’s something different this time, you can see it. Feel it. There’s excitement underneath. Something came alive in him. And its beautiful.

“Depends. What do you have in mind?” you inquire, that nervous, buzzing energy that accompanied suspense building up to your throat. The madness still lurks in his face. It was a playful kind of madness.

“Russian roulette.”


End file.
